eye (2006-22)

Don’t be a Square

Free-flowing Camperfest

Hott Music, Lukewarm Crowd-Control

Don’t be a Square

Unlike the playground version, in which your pride and your lunch money were up for grabs, everyone wins this time around. Both talent and failure are equal in the eyes of a good cause: Half the proceeds from the $5 entry fees benefit the Farmers Market, held each Wednesday and Saturday on the square. Of course, some competitors will win bigger than others; winner takes half the monetary pot, and Tomato Head’s been kind enough to throw in some gift cards as well.

Organizer Katie Ries says of her decision to resuscitate the old playground standby: It’s the ideal game for flat concrete spaces (like Market Square), minimal equipment and explanation are required, and “unlike kickball, the chances of us busting a window are slim to none.”

And, perhaps most importantly for those of us who spend more time sitting at the bar than feeling the burn, it doesn’t take much energy. “You stand in one place: The non-runners and folks-who-aren’t-crazy-about-athletic-exertion can do just as well as anyone else,” Ries explains. “It suits lazy urban folk and takes advantage of overly-paved public spaces.”

Lazy urban folk? Sign us up.

Free-flowing Camperfest

While our hearts and ears wish Camperfest went down more than once a year, our livers seem just fine with that.

Hott Music, Lukewarm Crowd-Control

Aside from Gestapo-style crowd-control tactics, there were some great shows. Stewart Pack managed to light it up—and still keep his heart firmly attached to his sleeve—on Friday night after talented out-of-towners Velvet and The Hot Pipes framed an always-punchy Westside Daredevils show. Saturday night saw some scheduling issues, when three less-familiar bands were slated to play between Knoxville stalwarts Tenderhooks , The Cheat and The Rockwells . Despite The Cheat’s stellar set—the highlight was watching gimpy Ian Lawrence ’s one-armed bass-playing, compliments of a bike crash—loyal rock fans began to trickle out as Knoxville’s youthful My Lost Cause strummed its first few Blink 182 -esque chords. Put them on the bill, sure, but make them openers, please, until they’ve got a few more years behind ’em. Too worn out from haggling with security guards for two nights in a row, and from dancing our butts off during The Rockwells’ set, we missed Sunday night, but by all accounts Steed , the Scars , and Lee put on a raucous show, perhaps wrenching the temperature back up to hott. We might still be smarting from the verbal manhandling, but we wouldn’t dare miss the opportunity to give props to Don Coffey Jr. for cramming so much good music into one weekend. Cheers!